


Patron Saint of Cake

by orphan_account



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Burger King Myers, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Food Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Stuffing, Weight Gain, mikey gets a belly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22918729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Michael Myers discovers a new kink and he enlists Jake Park to help him with it. Sexy times ensue.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Jake Park
Comments: 1
Kudos: 121





	Patron Saint of Cake

**Author's Note:**

> The world wants more Jayers and I'm here to provide it. Eat up, babes.

Jake has always wondered where those cakes go after they throw them into the fire. Does the Entity just take it apart? If they just return to sender, then why bother giving them in the first place? Surely, an extra-dimensional being wouldn’t care about sentiment. Maybe it’s a weird trick to make the survivors feel better about themselves. No, surely, the cakes must be going somewhere, filling some kind of purpose. It just seems so frivolous to have it serve no genuine function.

It’s these questions that lead to Jake getting grabbed off a gen. Michael Myers, no terror radius. Should’ve known better. Jake lets out a sigh as he feels the killer’s iron grasp around his waist, slung over his shoulder like Jake weighs nothing at all. He could struggle free, maybe, but there was no point in wasting all his energy so soon. Might as well just take the hook. That’s always been his biggest flaw; head too in the clouds. Maybe that’s a strength, though. When others panic, he’s grounded. It’s come in handy too many times to count, especially given Dwight’s frantic demeanor.

Unfortunately, the basement is close to the gen he was working on. The musty air of the basement hits him hard, makes his stomach turn, but miraculously, no hook meets his shoulder. Instead, his shoulder hits the ground hard and sends fireworks of pain through his arm. Must have hit his funny bone, damn. Jake lets out a groan as he pushes himself up with his non-tingly arm. It takes him a second to come back down to Earth, seeing as he wasn’t exactly mentally prepared to be doing anything other than hang for the next few minutes. He shakes his head and blinks his eyes a few times. 

Michael Myers, standing over him. His head is cocked to the side. Silent, observing. Jake doesn’t bother asking any questions. It’s pointless, and besides, he can appreciate the quiet type. That being said, he would definitely prefer an explanation. No amount of subtle body movements can communicate what’s going on right now. Michael pats his stomach. Jake furrows his brow. Michael points his knife towards the corner. Jake’s eyes slide over. Cakes. Cakes? Well, fuck, there’s his answer. They’re all hidden in the killer shack. But why?

Jake bites the corner of his lip and turns back to Michael. Out of all the people to have a stash, he hadn’t expected Michael to have a sweet tooth. The killer just pats his stomach again, arm still gesturing to all that cake. It still doesn’t click in Jake’s head. After all, why would it? Maybe he’s just too frazzled from this surreal situation to connect the dots. But then, Michael lifts his hand up to his mask, and, oh, so, slowly, peels the bottom of his mask up. Jake’s frozen in shock. Never before, not even once, has anyone seen Michael willingly take off his mask. Sure, he’s stolen it before, just as a gag, but that seemed to absolutely infuriate Michael.

He doesn’t take it all the way off, but he lifts the material up high enough so that the bottom of his nose peeks out. His strong features are lined by that typical unshaven stubble, his mouth hanging open just a little bit. Then he opens his jaws wide, points at his tongue, then at the cakes again. Oh. Oh.

Jake pushes himself up onto his feet and staggers over to the pile of cakes. Gingerly, as if they’ll explode if he makes the wrong move, he picks up one of the plates and brings it over to Michael, who’s moved over to the stairs. Even seated, he still looks like a giant. Jake swallows hard as Michael stares at the cake. The fabric of his overalls are bunched up around his midsection, strangely tight. Jake squints curiously, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly. The expression is slight, almost unnoticeable, but Michael picks up on it and takes it as a cue to explain further.

Michael’s scarred hand reaches up and pulls at the zipper of his overalls. It slides down, making a loud zipping sound, and then he reaches that bulge. He yanks the zipper down all the way and lets his breath out. His stomach surges forward. His usually flat stomach. It curves out in a ball of hairy flab, sitting in his lap. A flabby little gut. Fat. Michael Myers is getting fat. Jake shifts his leg to make his erection less uncomfortable.

“Okay.” Jake chokes out. Sure, he could say no, but then he’d get his chest pierced with some rusty metal. Besides, his already hard cock tells him to do it, to indulge in this strange fantasy, to break the very laws of the universe and fuck this serial killer. So he picks up a hunk of cake with his bare hands and brings it to Michael’s lips. He takes the fistful into his mouth in one bite, his wet tongue grazing Jake’s fingers. He chews quickly before sending the cake down into his gut with one heavy swallow. A sizable lump travels down his neck before disappearing behind his meaty chest. Jake provides another chunk, and similarly, the Shape swallows it down in seconds.

As he continues feeding Michael, Jake sets the cake down on the step and lets his free hand wander over to Michael’s bulging middle. The implications of skin on skin are heavy. It sends a shock of fear and subsequent arousal into Jake, but then Michael lets out a pleased purr. It’s so soft. His gut’s so workable, and frankly, it’s amazing to Jake that this is the first time Michael Myers has ever let him touch him. He rubs his palm into Michael’s gut as the killer hungrily scarfs down handful after handful of cake. Bits of frosting coat his chin, though he occasionally takes a moment to lick his chops and get all that delicious sugar into him.

By the time an entire cake has disappeared into Michael’s now notably full stomach, a pile of crumbs has accumulated on top of his round beer belly. Jake moves to grab another plate, and in the brief moment that takes, Michael takes his fingers and shove some of the frosting crumb slop into his mouth. Jake catches a glimpse of it and he feels a surge of precum leak out into his underwear. “Fuck, dude.” He whispers to himself. Perhaps Michael hears him, maybe he doesn’t. If he does, then it only makes him more eager to stuff himself.

Michael makes quick work of the second cake as well, but before he can get to the last slice, he has to stop himself. A series of wet burps bubble out of him. His hands fall down to the sides of his bloated belly and gently move in circles. Jake can hear the distressed sounds the killer’s stomach is making. All that fat and sugar must be a real challenge for his gut to process, let alone even contain, but after a few more burps, Jake shoves another piece of cake into Michael’s mouth. The killer lets out a frustrated grunt, one that reminds Jake of all the times they’ve jabbed glass into his arm to free themselves, but there’s no retribution.

Jake smiles to himself as he forces more and more cake into Michael Myers. It’s an intoxicating experience, seeing this deadly killer shift uncomfortably underneath him and let out weak groans. His expanding stomach gurgles and blorps precariously, more airy burps rocketing out of Michael to make room, but Jake doesn’t give him any time to rest. The faster they get through these cakes, the less time Michael’s stomach has to register just how much food it’s being stuffed with. Slowly but surely, Michael is filled to the absolute brim, and Jake absolutely revels in the control he has over this towering man. He doesn’t even remember when he had pulled his cock out, but he’s been grinding his erection up against Michael’s own bulge for a while now. Strands of cum leak out of his cock as he continues feeding Michael with one hand and jacking himself off with the other.

Jake doesn’t stop until Michael’s hand shoots up and grabs him by the wrist. Michael's other hand presses into his taut gut, gives it a couple slow rubs, before growling unintelligibly. The sound of the exit gates opening in the distance tells them that the other survivors have left, and good timing, too. Jake quickly finishes rubbing one out, shooting his load onto the impressive curve of Michael’s belly. It honestly seems like Michael doesn’t even realize, as his head is tipped back, focused entirely on his straining stomach.

Jake sighs as he looks down at the killer, who’s now leaning back all the way on the staircase. His gut sticks straight up into the air. Bits of frosting stick to his curls of belly hair, a treasure trail leading down to his twitching boner. Jake, ever the altruist, tugs down the fabric of Michael’s overalls and grins as the man’s cock springs free. A slick of cum coats the side of his needy erection. It’s long and fat, a proper killer’s cock, and Jake wastes no time in getting his mouth around it. His tongue licks up the salty cum, runs over the man’s sensitive head. His fingers reach under and gently massage Michael’s balls. How long has it been since this guy’s had a proper release?

Jake chuckles to himself as he thrusts the length of Michael’s girthy cock in and out of his mouth. The killer’s already labored breathing picks up, becomes more shallow. It sounds magnificent. Just as Michael reaches a climax, his breathing cuts out, and he holds his chest absolutely still as he pumps a gallon of cum straight into Jake’s throat. Jake, of course, diligently swallows as much of it down as he can, though a bit inevitably slips out from between his lips. The wave of cum doesn’t stop until Jake feels his own stomach getting full, and by then, Michael’s absolutely drained. His body slackens, his breath slowly coming back, and then Jake feels the cock slip away. A long strand of semen stretches between his lips and the head of Michael’s cock as he pulls back. Jake runs his hand over his face and wipes off any residual fluids. 

The usual moldy scent of the basement has been replaced with the unmistakable smell of sex. It’s a nice change. Now that Michael has been reduced to a bloated pig passed out on the floor, Jake buckles his pants back up and takes a deep breath. His legs are still shaking with pleasure, but he can sense the Entity’s getting angry at how long this is taking. Yellow cracks are starting to spread across the walls and ceiling, indicating the realm’s imminent collapse. While he could stay and suck Michael off a second time, he’d rather not get impaled, so Jake smirks and starts up the stairs.

Before he turns the corner, though, he calls back to Michael. “Next time we’re in a trial together, grab me off the gen and we can do this again.”

The last thing Jake heard before escaping was the echo of a particularly loud burp.


End file.
